


Once Upon A December

by ladyofdecember



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Childhood Friends, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Lost Love, M/M, Mentions of the original Blue Morpho, Temporary Amnesia, The Guild - Freeform, The O.S.I.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6240757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofdecember/pseuds/ladyofdecember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a prompt from LJ. Set during Season 6. Pretty much Canon based too.</p>
<p>Rusty and The Monarch are trapped deep behind enemy lines together and as if that wasn't bad enough, The Monarch thinks he's seven years old again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I really, really, really, really love this idea so I went kinda crazy with it. These two are my fave, srsly. Also, the song “Once Upon A December”, yes that song from that Disney movie, is perfect for these two. Childhood memories, amnesia, faded memories. It's just perfect.
> 
> This was written for The Venture Brothers Fanfiction Meme 2016 over on 'the Livejournal' as a prompt fill. That place is great!  
> http://ladyofdecember.livejournal.com/3205.html?page=3#comments
> 
> "The Monarch is hit by a ray, or poisoned by a substance, that causes age regression. This restores his oldest long-term memories but wipes away all of his recent ones. He becomes a defenseless child trapped in the body of a middle-aged man, who is utterly *convinced* that Rusty will protect him from "bad guys". The effect should wear off on its own after a day, but in the meantime, they are deep in the bowels of enemy territory, and Rusty reluctantly finds himself -- for the first time in years -- becoming the boyhood hero he used to be in order to save his (estranged) childhood friend. 
> 
> BONUS: he's always known who the Monarch was, but the Guild spared the Monarch's life in exchange for a promise that Rusty would never breathe a word of the Monarch's identity to anyone, or the Monarch's life is forfeit. This is why Rusty has always staunchly stated that he has no idea who the Monarch is. Rusty secretly cherishes the memory of his childhood friend and will kill to keep the Guild from discovering he is breaking the rules."
> 
> Dancing bears,  
> Painted wings,  
> Things I almost remember,  
> And a song someone sings,  
> Once upon a December  
> Someone holds me safe and warm,  
> Horses prance through a silver storm,  
> Figures dancing gracefully across my memory  
> \--Once Upon A December by Liz Calloway

It's not like he's an asshole or anything. This choice was made for him long, long ago by others, grown-ups, who knew better.

Rusty never wanted this life or any of the ridiculous, confusing and sometimes heartbreaking effects that came with it. But being born into it, he really hadn't had a choice. Such was the case with him and The Monarch, or as he once called him, Malcolm.

Choosing to ignore him was hard when he was younger but an attainable goal, what with his basic lack of access to transportation or ever really being out of the sight of his father. When he was told to say goodbye to Malcolm for one last time, he gave him a hug as tight as he could manage and then watched him climb aboard their family's jet for one last time. After that, he just willed himself not to think about it, not to think about his friend anymore, no matter how lonely he got.

Currently, he was sitting with his back against the cave wall, arms draped around his legs in order to clutch them close for a faulty sense of protection and self-assurance. What was he going to do? He needed to think. For the first time in probably two years, he wished he had his diet pills.

The Monarch... Malcolm, was also sitting in a very similar fashion, up against the wall and clutching his knees to his chest. He kept looking over at him, dammit, with those big and slightly wet eyes. Wait... wet? Was the joker actually crying?

'Don't think about it', Rusty silently reminded himself.

Malcolm had been hit with an 'age-progression' ray, whatever that was, and had found himself terrifyingly and confusingly reverted back to his 7-year-old self. Just mentally though, he honestly didn't know if he'd be able to deal with an actual child right now. He was out of practice. The boys were... older now, and seemed to need him less and less every day. Let's put that heart wrenching thought away for later though, shall we?

When they get outta here, he's going to have so much of that red wine at home. But, back to the matter at hand. Malcolm was still looking at him and pouting. 

He had been terrified when it struck him and really confused, all of his current and recent memories apparently destroyed in the process. He'd recognized Rusty though, right away, and began clinging to him just as a best friend would in times of danger. He hadn't had the proper time to respond to it as it all happened so fast but somehow he'd focused and gotten them outta there.

Racing through the caves with Malcolm in tow, his sweaty hand clinging to his as he trailed behind, Rusty made some quick turns left and right through the winding cave in order to confuse their enemies. He'd finally lost them when, as luck would have it, a weak ceiling in the cave had given way to cracks, causing a cave collapse and trapping them on the other side.

Great. So, they'd escaped but were now trapped in a cave who knows how far down beneath the earth and would most likely suffocate from the lack of oxygen. They had maybe hours. Rusty let his head drop to hide his face in his arms. What a life.

He didn't have a tracking chip sewn into this speedsuit. Hatred hadn't gotten a chance, what with maintaining security downstairs for the company. He'd also had some... unfortunate accidents as of late and had spent the better part of a week or two in a hospital.

Rusty mulled over his options, which were looking bleak. His communicator watch didn't work this far below ground, he'd already tried earlier. Although currently, it was working well enough as a flashlight, illuminating the dark space. So that left them with... ? Being trapped in a cave and suffocating to death. 

The sound of sniffling made him sit up at attention, a trait from his time caring for the boys when they were younger. He looked at Malcolm, who was now all out crying. 

He sighed in irritation. "What? Why are you crying?"

"What did I do?" A small voice said, one that didn't match the middle aged man it came from.

Rusty began to feel anxious but he played it off, sighing in 'frustration' again. "What?!"

Malcolm sat up a little straighter, bringing his knees down into a more comfortable sitting position. He scrubbed at his face childishly and looked away to the far corner of the cave. Rusty looked on.

“Why are you mad at me?” the small voice asked again.

Rusty blinked and honestly didn't have an answer. He had to think fast.

When The Guild... when their fathers had decided that it would be best that they separate it had been very hard on both of them, although Rusty didn't like to admit when anything was hard. But it was, it was difficult. He never actually understood why their families had to separate, he just remembered it having something to do with Malcolm's father and with The Guild.

Yet another thing to blame his father for, his shitty life, his shitty childhood. All fingers seemed to point back to Jonas. And that wasn't him being cynical, really, all fingers did point back to “Doctor Venture”.

Rusty thought back to that day in court that he'd had. They'd been invited to see the hearing, Malcolm or The Monarch as it were, was being tried for the murder of a civilian cop, a big no-no in the world of super villainy seeing as cops were not a part of The Guild nor the O.S.I.

He'd spent the day pretty angry and he had been, that part was real. Mostly it was because of the constant fuck-ups The Monarch had been involved in. He was tired of it. He was tired of being harassed by the man and honestly, why couldn't he just grow up and get a real job or something?

But back to the man in front of him, or the child, as it were. Rusty stood up and began walking over to the crumpled looking man, slightly slumped over in despair. He sat next to him.

“I'm not mad at you. You don't understand.” Rusty muttered, trying not to look at him.

Malcolm turned his full attention to his friend, a hopeful look in his eyes now that he was actually conversing with him. “You're not?”

“No. I'm not. Now, let's just think of a way out of here.”

Malcolm glanced around at the small space. It was chilly in here. “It's scary.”

Rusty sighed again. He wasn't going to get anywhere with the man like this. He allowed himself to glance at his childhood friend. He frowned.

How many years had it been? How many years had they'd known each other and how many had he been pretending not to know who the man even was?

How unfair. Then again, as his father always liked to tell him, life isn't fair, Rusty.

Malcolm began to shiver pathetically and Rusty rolled his eyes, begrudgingly reaching out and placing an arm around the man's shoulders. 'What a picture this must be', he thought.

His archenemy looked at him and smiled, grateful for the comfort and the warmth. Rusty just passively looked back at him for a moment before turning away to defiantly stare into the darkness. “We're going to die in here, you know. There isn't enough air. We're trapped. My watch isn't working. Jesus, we need to think of a way out, I'm serious.”

Malcolm bit his lip in contemplation when inspiration suddenly struck him. “Maybe Dad will come with Doctor Venture!”

He beamed up at his friend before laying his head on his bony shoulder. Rusty resisted the urge to bitterly inform him of both of their departures long ago. Instead, he maneuvered his arm to pull the man closer. It was just for his comfort, of course. No use in upsetting a child, after all.

And if he began to feel calmer at the closeness of the man, well, that was only logical. Humans crave social interaction and being around other human beings right. It's purely scientific.

Rusty thought about their old sleepovers at the compound. They must have been really little then, maybe 5 or so? Sometimes, they'd sit just like this, really close together with his head lolled against his shoulder.

And then his thoughts drifted to their college days. The man had stubbornly followed him to State University although not for reasons you'd suspect. Rusty didn't know what happened to the man's memories but they seemed to have been distorted somehow. Possibly by his father? He didn't know.

What he did know was that Malcolm's father had been involved in some kind of jet crash. He hadn't been privy to the hows, the whys or the wheres, as anytime he'd asked questions his father had just reprimanded him that he didn't want to talk about it.

He was discouraged from bringing up Malcolm at all, actually, which had confused him as well. But then again, his father did all kinds of strange things. He learned over time not to question things.

Anyway, Malcolm in college with him had been rough. First of all, he'd intentionally attended the University for the sole reason that Rusty was attending there. That's it. Not for his own reasons, to get a degree or anything, but simply because he had some sort of vendetta against him. Another thing Rusty would never understand.

What had happened to the man's memories to distort them so? At first he had been grateful. If the man didn't remember him, great. If he hated him and wanted nothing to do with him, even better. It made Rusty's life easier and yet, somehow, harder. He tried not to think about it.

Seeing the man in his classes and sometimes outside his dorm room was frustrating and really, very poignant. The man seemed to intentionally want to fuck up his life. He blamed him for something, although he didn't even know what. On the few occasions that Rusty had actually given in, despite his better judgment, and asked the man head on why he was stalking him, he... hadn't had an answer.

He'd seemed taken back, somewhat perturbed even, when forced to think about it. And that had been that. Rusty had gone back to his routine of ignoring the man, sure that this would cause him to give up and leave him alone. Oh, how wrong he had been.

Malcolm shifted his position a little and moved his arms to wrap around Rusty's waist causing him to jerk upward into a standing position. “O-Okay! That's... enough.”

Rusty glared down at the man who was staring up at him befuddled. “Don't do that!” he snapped at him.

Malcolm blinked up at him. “Why?”

Rusty swallowed nervously and forced himself to look away from him. 'Don't think about it.' he reminded himself internally.

He began to move outside of the glow of his communicator watch, which rested on the ground in front of where they had been sitting. 

His outline disappearing into the darkness, Malcolm began to panic. “Wait! Don't! Please!” 

“What?!” Rusty snapped, coming back into the light once more.

He looked at the teary eyed face of The Monarch and his anger disappeared in an instant. The man was terrified.

He moved to walk closer to him and reached out a hand shakily. He decided to rest both of his hands on either side of the man, on his own slightly bony shoulders. “It's okay. We have the light here. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Malcolm frowned. “You said we were... we're going to die.”

Rusty bit his lip. “Well, not if we find a way out, right?”

Malcolm looked down at his shiny yellow boots. His face changed from one of fear to one of disorientation instead. “I don't understand what's going on.”

“I know.”

“Why am I dressed like this?”

“That... I don't know.” Rusty smirked and chuckled a bit.

Malcolm's head shot up at the sound and he smiled, full force, happy that his friend's mood now seemed to be improving.

Rusty tried to ignore the way his heart leapt a few beats. His breathing slowed. The Monarch didn't smile often and if he did, usually Rusty was nowhere to be found.

But this wasn't 'The Monarch', this was Malcolm. Malcolm, his best friend. Malcolm, boy adventurer. Malcolm, the boy who would always be there for him, the boy he promised to always keep safe. The boy... who he had failed.

Rusty frowned, his grip on the man's shoulders tightening. Oh no... he was thinking again. This wasn't good. Why did he throw out those diet pills? Why did he quit?

Malcolm reached up to grasp Rusty's hands and bring them down in between them. He clenched them in his own, he hoped, comfortingly and smiled at him reassuringly.

Rusty swallowed, feeling very nervous and trying his best to maintain control of the situation, his mind and his heart.

“Rusty... we'll be okay. Don't worry. I'm going to think of something. We don't have to be afraid, after all.”

And then he moved away from him, dropping his hands and trying to search for some sort of way out. Rusty watched him, heartbroken, as all the memories they'd shared together which he'd tried to suppress came flooding in all at once.

Every time the man had woken him in the middle of the night to wreck havoc on the compound. Every time he'd been out somewhere in the jungle and the man had suddenly sprung himself on him, capturing him and his entire family and stringing them up in ropes over some kind of danger. Every time he and Malcolm had gone swimming as children and he'd been too afraid to go in “the deep end” so Malcolm had helped him learn to swim and be braver and just be... better. Every time.

“I'm sorry... “

Malcolm turned to look back at Rusty curiously. He was standing and staring at the ground persistently and refusing to look up at him as he continued. “I messed up. I should have... I dunno, done more for you. I didn't know what to do. I didn't-”

Walking over to his friend, Malcolm grasped at his hands once more, and brought them up to him causing Rusty to glance up. “Rusty... don't be sad.”

“I am. I am sad.”

“Why?” 

“Because... we've lost so much time. And we can't go back. And now, it's too late. There's nothing that can be done. I just wanted you to be safe. And I trusted my father, stupidly and-”

Malcolm smiled. “Doctor Venture is going to save us though. Don't worry-”

“He's not.” Rusty interrupted bitterly, tears now forming in his eyes, motivated by the deep sense of regret now blooming in his chest. They were going to die in here and it was too late, everything was too late. Everything was lost.

Malcolm's smile faded, replaced by one of worry. He tightened his grip on their hands and swallowed nervously.

Rusty looked deep in the man's eyes. “I'm sorry. It's all my fault.”

The communicator watch's glow was suddenly snuffed out, swallowing them in darkness. Malcolm instinctively stepped closer to the man and Rusty could feel his arms go up and around him in an embrace.

“What happened?!” he cried.

Rusty moved to glance at where the watch had been in, now completely invisible due to the dark cave. He reached up to pat the man's arms assuredly and move away from him. “Hang on.”

Retrieving the watch, he hit the button on the side to turn the screen back on. It'd simply timed out. Now, however, their faces were alight once more. Malcolm visibly relaxed.

Rusty sat the watch back down next to them and folded his arms in a protective manner. Malcolm stepped forward again, trying to pry his arms away from his chest and hug the man. 

Trying to protest at first, he soon gave way to the embrace and found it quite soothing. Malcolm wrapped his arms protectively around the shorter man, his mind finding it puzzling that he was somehow taller than he remembered and that he himself was also taller. How could he have grown so fast in just a few day's time? Why was he wearing this weird stretchy material anyway?

So many questions filled his mind, he thought it better not to think about them. At least Rusty was here. The last time he'd seen him was... oh. The last time he'd seen him he'd been getting on his parent's plane and waving a tearful goodbye to him and Doctor Venture. But... that had only been a few days ago, right?

Malcolm's mind felt like an elastic band as it struggled to make sense of all the memories filling his head. If that was a few days ago, why did he have memories of the plane crashing in the middle of the woods? Why did he have memories of being alone and naked and then running around and playing with butterflies?

The most important question was, what happened to Rusty's hair? Was he also in the crash? Did it burn off?

Malcolm squeezed the man harder as his mind began to feel like it might explode. Rusty moved back a little from his grasp, staring into his eyes curiously.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I don't... I'm not... “

Rusty looked at him fretfully. He placed a hand on his cheek to steady his darting glances and calm his fearfulness. “It's okay. Everything's okay.”

“But this doesn't make sense!”

“I know.” Rusty frowned. “You'll be okay though. Usually, in just a few hours... maybe a day. Things'll make sense again.”

He knew of similar amnesia causing substances only lasting a little while. He wondered if maybe they'd be so lucky. Then again, if they didn't get help soon, it wouldn't really matter anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Malcolm looked into Rusty's eyes and the scientist could have sworn the same old Monarch had come alight in them again. 

He blinked at him. “I don't want to alarm you. Don't... don't freak out or anything. But, what's the last thing you remember... before we got captured, I mean?”

The taller man shrugged and bit his lip, glancing away from Rusty's intense gaze. “I dunno... I remember being in the forest.”

“The forest? What forest?”

Malcolm rubbed his arm self-consciously. “I was in the forest. I was playing with the butterflies. They were taking care of me. The... plane went down. I don't know what happened to mother and father. I was alone but then the butterflies came and... ”

He glanced back up at his friend and Rusty's eyes narrowed in confusion as he tried to work out just what the man was talking about. Maybe with his regressive memory loss he could once and for all pinpoint just why exactly the man had been after him the last decade or so.

“Rusty?”

Snapping back to attention at the use of his nickname, the scientist cocked an eyebrow in response. “Yes?”

“Do you know where mother and father went?”

Oh god. Struck by the sudden gut wrenching realization that the man's parent's death was going to hit him full force all over again, Rusty began to panic and struggled to think of a distraction to the conversation. He walked over to the communicator watch and began fiddling with its' signal once more.

“There has to be something we can do with this thing.” He said, completely side stepping The Monarch's question.

Malcolm bit his lip again and looked down at his yellow boots. Toying with the tips of them, he wondered if it they were a part of some sort of costume for a party he was going to. Was it his birthday? No... he just had a birthday a few months before. 

He smiled at the memory. Rusty had given him a yellow toy truck. But then, he'd hogged it the entire time so he hadn't gotten to play with it much. Until of course, he began to cry and Rusty felt bad. He'd given it back to him then, feeling sheepish and uncomfortable with his crying about it.

Something was still bothering him about what was going on. Why were they in this cave? How did they even get chased in here? And where was Team Venture? 

Something else didn't make sense and that was the fact that Rusty seemed to have aged overnight. Really aged. His smile looked the same, his eyes and nose. The way he laughed. That was all the same. But he was so tall now.

Glancing back down at himself and the weird clothes he was wearing, it occurred to him he had also grown taller. Could it be that they were in the future?

“Okay! Well, I think I may have something here!” Rusty interrupted Malcolm's internal monologue, breaking his concentration.

Rusty beamed at the man. “I think I fixed it! The signal is definitely stronger now!”

Malcolm smiled a little at his friend's triumph. 

After a bit more tinkering however, it appeared it had all been in vain. The signal fell again along with the scientist's spirits. He gave up, tossing the watch back on the ground and set up shop sitting against the cave wall once more.

Malcolm took the opportunity to sweep in again and sidle up next to him. He watched him out of the corner of his eye, marveling at how different he looked when you really paid attention and focused in.

Rusty caught one of his glances and turned to him in irritation. “What?!”

“Rusty... I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you mad at me.” 

He turned to look down at his shiny boots dejectedly.

“I'm not mad at you. I keep telling you that. Why do you think I'm mad?”

“Why did we have to leave?”

Rusty's breath caught in his throat and he turned away, wondering what he could possibly say. Maybe just the truth would work? 

He shrugged. “I don't know. Your dad... my dad said that we couldn't see each other anymore.”

“Do you know where my father is?” Malcolm turned to him full force, eyes growing a little misty.

Rusty bit his lip and then decided that honesty wasn't always the best policy. “No... I'm sorry. I'm not sure.”

Malcolm nodded and turned away again, sinking down the wall a bit.

“But... I'm sure that, he's doing something important wherever he is.” He added hastily, seeing the sad look on the man's face.

Rusty didn't know if this was helping or hurting. Maybe the ray would wear off soon and everything would be okay again, like it was before. Then again, things hadn't been okay in a long time.

Malcolm nodded in that way a child does when they're listening but not really hearing. 

Sighing at their predicament, Rusty tried to focus on the good things they had going. The henchmen that were on the other side of the rocks hadn't even tried to get in to them. Maybe they assumed they were dead? At least they were safe on that front.

And hey, maybe Brock would send forces in to help them. That is, if he was even paying attention to him when he was telling him about the island meeting he was going to. Perhaps, the Pirate Captain would be smart enough to predict that he'd get himself stuck in a cave? No, no, he seemed far to interested in running off to party with the island natives. Pirate.

Malcolm was crying again, that was apparent by the sound of all the sniffling going on next to him. Rusty felt his heart clench.

He looked down at his hands in despair. “Look, my dad isn't god, okay? He doesn't know everything, that's for damn sure.”

A quiet gasp sounded from beside him, ending the sobbing. Rusty turned to look at the man.

“You said a... you said-”

“What? A bad word?” Rusty smirked, finding the whole situation suddenly very funny and yet something about it was quite... disturbing.

He shouldn't laugh, really. This whole event was traumatic enough and well, he hoped that the ray was temporary but there was always the chance that it was permanent. God... could you imagine?

Malcolm grinned, covering his laugh with his hand, immediately enthralled at Rusty's loose usage of a 'naughty word'. Father would never stand for such language and he had thought, that Doctor Venture wouldn't either. He was always so strict with Rusty.

Rusty turned away, trying to get a hold of the laughter that had infected him like a bad cold, sudden, unexpected and could quickly get out of control.

“Rusty, I'm glad we're trapped here.”

“Oh? Really? And just why is that?”

“Because... otherwise, I might never see you again. And I... I missed you.”

Looking at the costumed idiot beside him that had spend so many of the past years making his life hell, Rusty was torn between a sudden red hot anger that filled him at the words and a deep sense of loss mixed with despair. He blinked at the man, unsure of how to respond.

It was true... if the man's last memories were of saying goodbye to him and his father, well then yes, they wouldn't have seen each other for many, many years. Just how long? Well, not till college, definitely. So, a good long while. 

Rusty chose to continue playing along with the poor guy, after all his mind was pretty much wiped. Best not to shock it too much by providing it confusing or conflicting information. And, this man in front of him, with the amnesia he had, well he wasn't the same man who had been intentionally chasing after him and causing havoc. This man was innocent of all of that. He had only the best intentions in mind, right? He was Malcolm, his best friend, that boy he had always been attached at the hip with when he was younger.

“Missed me, huh?” Rusty smiled.

Malcolm smiled and cocked his head to the side. “Of course.”

And there was that weirdness again. The man before him, resembling The Monarch more and more with every little mannerism he displayed. It was troubling.

“We're still best friends, right?” Malcolm asked, playing idly with a little pebble on the ground.

Rusty wondered how long it had been since there had been someone in his life he was so close to that he considered them a “best friend”. Of course, he had plenty in his life who cared. Brock, Hank and Dean, sure but they were family. That was very different. Then there was White and Billy and god, was he glad they were in the god forsaken city with him so he didn't feel so damned alone and out of place. And yes, they were very close but they had each other. They were a “package deal”. So he certainly couldn't consider either of them his best friend as they were, of course, each other's.

And that left him just... there, really. The thought was very unsettling. 

So maybe he could pretend, if only for the little while that they had left, that there was still someone in this world who cared about him. Truly cared.

Rusty looked up into the man's brown eyes and smiled fondly. “We'll always be best friends, Malcolm. How could you even ask that?”

Malcolm grinned and began tossing the pebble in the air. “Good.”

“So... the last time we saw each other-”

“At your house.” Malcolm interrupted happily, causing Rusty to cock an eyebrow.

“Yes... I don't remember. What were we doing again?”

“Oh, well, we went swimming. And, you tried to drown me cause you forgot that I can swim and hold my breath for, like ever, and then H.E.L.P.eR. made us Spaghetti-O's.”

“Right... “ Rusty mumbled, getting lost in the almost encyclopedia like recollection of a day they'd spent together from more than 20 years ago. That ray was sure something. “What else did we do?”

He couldn't help feeling endlessly curious about their past that seemed like someone else's life at this point.

Malcolm shrugged, accidentally dropping the pebble and watching it bounce several feet away from them. He turned to him then, shifting to a more comfortable sitting position. 

He grinned. “Wanna practice the handshake?”

Taken back, Rusty quickly searched his mind for just what the fuck the man was talking about. For the life of him he couldn't remember. A handshake? Did they have one of those?

It was a weird thing, feeling like an impostor of yourself. But, as he sat there at a loss for words, he could only shrug helplessly and say, “Uh... I don't... I don't remember it.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes playfully. “Geez, you have a bad memory. Okay, so it goes... “

He began going through the steps and motions of this very elaborate handshake that they'd had to have made up when they were like six or so and how the hell they managed to be so quick and so smart at such a young age, who knows? 

Rusty was certain that most nights it was a miracle he even made it up the stairs to his bed instead of just passing out wherever he was, on the couch or otherwise.

He'd gotten old. Hell, he'd felt old at seventeen, the downside of such a hard life of constantly traveling the world paired with near death experiences on the daily.

As he sat here now, basically seven years old again, he felt... better, lighter, even a little giddy.

Everything felt perfect, really it did, still there was something bothering him in the back of his mind. As they broke away, Rusty slumped against the cave wall letting his hands fall to rest on his legs, palm sides up.

Malcolm mischievously looked at him, eyes darting from his hands to his face for a moment before he smirked and began to tickle one of his palms. Rusty jumped and jerked his hand away as though he'd been burned.

"Hey!" He complained grumpily but his friend just laughed.

Rusty watched the man struggle to contain his giggles and wondered when was the last time he'd laughed like that. Like, really laughed. Had it been since he was a kid? So many things had changed.

Biting his lip, he looked away from the man and asked. "Malcolm, am I a... bad person?"

His laughter finally ceased and a serious look crossed over his features. He leaned in closely, close enough that when Rusty faced him and took a breath he could smell his after shave. Not Malcolm's, but The Monarch's. It added to the confusion he was already feeling and again he reminded himself to not think about it.

"No." Malcolm replied simply, as if the question itself was preposterous. "You're Rusty Venture. You're a hero. You're my hero."


	3. Chapter 3

Rusty sighed, feeling overwhelmed with the situation at whole. He shrugged and glanced at the man. “Well I... I don't really feel like a hero anymore. I haven't for a long time now.”

“You are a hero!” Malcolm nodded as he played with a few more of the pebbles between them.

“What would you do if you knew there was a secret you had to keep but you... you just didn't think it was worth it anymore?”

“Secrets are hard to keep.” The man giggled. He leaned against him, bumping his shoulder. “You should keep the secret though, I think.”

“What if I can't anymore?” Rusty asked, voice sounding hollow as he glanced up at the man's face.

Malcolm frowned, deep in thought. He was troubled by the wary look on his best friend's face. “I think it's okay to tell if you don't hurt anybody. You can't hurt anybody, Rusty.”

Sinking back down against the cave wall, the scientist sighed, feeling very alone despite the presence there with him.

“Rusty... “

“What?” He groused, unwilling to look up and meet the man's eyes.

“I don't like... I don't like this.”

The bald man said nothing, deciding it'd be best to save their air supply but when the man scooted away from him rapidly and then stood up to begin walking around, he began to worry.

“Malcolm.” Rusty said, tone full of anxiety. “What is it?”

Malcolm shook his head, beginning to pace back and forth. As he did so, his breathing became more frantic, a sort of choked sob sounding from his mouth. “I don't... I don't understand... “

It seemed to the scientist that 'Malcolm' was becoming more and more coherent as time went on. He stood up to try to calm him down. “Look, Malcolm-”

The man interrupted him, gripping at both of his arms fiercely. “Rusty! Why? Why did you... why were we in court together?!”

“Uh... I don't know what you're talking about.”

Malcolm began to shake him back and forth, rather strong for a seven-year-old, though the implications of that hadn't yet seemed to occur to him. Rusty tried to break away from the grip, searching his mind for some distracting to deescalate the situation.

“Uh... hey, do you remember my birthday where Action Man got me that puppy?”

Malcolm turned away from him, continuing to pace once more, seemingly ignoring his statement altogether. “I'm... I remember... you went to college. You were so mean to me!”

And now he turned his gaze fully on him, stepping closer and squinting his eyes just so. 

The breath caught in his lungs as he tried to back up only to find himself caught between the cave wall and his so-called enemy.

“Rusty! We were supposed to be together forever! Forever! Why did you leave me?!”

Panicking, Rusty tried to push back against the man to give himself some space but he would not relent. “Look, you don't understand, you-”

“You're my best friend!” Malcolm interrupted as he began to cry once more. The memories were too much for him as they overlapped and contradicted one another. It was a sad effect of any memory-erasing device. The human brain always wants to fix itself, wants to rebuild and if you delete the wrong segments, well, it loses it's ability to repair and to function properly.

As Malcolm's grip on the man's speedsuit lessened, he began to sink down against his chest and sob into the material there. Rusty found his resolve weakening, his hands moving to gently lay across the man's shoulders and back.

He bit his lip, staring out at the dimly lit cave surrounding them. He sighed, giving in. “Malcolm... I... I love you. There, I said it. It's not gonna matter now anyway, right? You... you're gonna regain all your memories again and most likely forget this whole thing. All of it. And if not, well, like I said, we're pretty much screwed here. We're gonna die in here. So... fuck it, I guess?”

Rusty swallowed nervously as the man's cries and movement stilled against him. He slowly stood up to his full height, the irony not lost on the scientist that he was way taller than him despite being younger.

Malcolm's eyes watered, his lips quivered as he shook his head in confusion. “My head... hurts.”

“I know, buddy.” Rusty took his hands in his own again and squeezed them reassuringly. “I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't... I didn't do something about what was happening. I didn't stand up to my father. I didn't... I didn't come see you when... you know... what happened happened.” He shrugged, eyes darting away from him as everything suddenly felt too real, too raw and emotional like an open wound.

“Mother and father are dead.” Malcolm said suddenly, his lip quivering all the more as Rusty's eyes rose up to meet his in shock. 'He knows.' He thought in horror. 'He's remembering things.'

Rusty shook his head, tears starting to fill his eyes as well. “I'm so sorry.” His mind turned to his own father's funeral, just after he left the university, the surreal pain of it all, the gaping wound feeling like it was being reopened here and now.

They had both lost their parents, though for Malcolm regrettably, it had been much, much earlier. He'd only heard about it much later and only by accident from thumbing through newspaper clippings hidden away by his father. 

Rusty's breath quickened as he stood there, squeezing the man's hands tightly in his own, as they both cried. “Malcolm... I... “

It was then that the man threw himself at the mercy of his once best friend, clinging tightly to him as though letting him go would mean falling off the face of the earth. Maybe it did.

They embraced one another tightly for who knows how long. The glow of the watch turned off again, having timed out, though neither seemed to really care about the darkness now.

Sorrow filled the scientist as he thought of all the times over the years he'd intently tried to cover up feelings for his friend and any knowledge of their past. His mind had once questioned the need for the secrecy and just how dangerous would it be to drop the act at all? But every time he'd thought about it, the fear that filled him, of Malcolm's possible execution, was enough to remind himself to be strong, to keep his game face on.

He didn't care anymore, he truly didn't. He needed the man in his life, not that he'd ever really been absent per se, but needed this specific man in his life, not the deranged supervillain he'd become. He needed his childhood friend. 

There was a digging noise, some screaming of some men and then a loud explosion which had sounded somewhere near the direction of the rock pile. Rusty warned himself not to hope for hope's sake but something inside him told him help was on the way.

Sure enough, not a few moments later and Brock fucking Samson was barreling through heavy rock to get to the two of them.

“Hey Doc... uh... what?” He asked, puzzled at the two's close embrace. Behind him stood the Pirate Captain as well as Hunter Gathers.


End file.
